


Done in Darkness

by Onlymostydead



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fighting, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Ot7 is only implied, Smoking, michael centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: He can't give up.Not now.Not ever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a vent Drabble.  
> Enjoy!

Don't give up.  
A lesson learned early on for Michael, somewhere mixed in with the blood and the hurt that just kept coming. If you gave up, she wins.  
You can't give up, even though life isn't fair. The pain comes in the form of a mother's hands, covering his bruises on Sunday morning before church. Always so careful to conceal her work.  
It comes when he hears the priest talk about how only fools hide their work in the darkness. When he realizes that none of the other kids around him dealt with the torrent of hatred that filled his home.  
No matter what, Michael decided, he couldn't give up. He couldn't let her win.  
It truly was a fight, and hitting back only made it so much worse. Her yelled words that she just wants the best for him, that nothing was wrong but him.  
That he was bringing this upon himself, that a parent only punishes a child they love.  
The lies and deceit, how she carefully taught him to conceal his bruises with her concealer. How he asked why and she replied that she wanted others to think of him as a good kid.  
Only fools fight an unarmed foe, tricking them and leading them down a dark path. Only fools conceal their actions in the darkness of a broken home.  
But only a fool stays down.  
Quickly Michael learned to retaliate, how to fight back in ways she couldn't touch.  
He snuck out late on the nights she drank too much, when she wouldn't notice that he was gone.  
He snuck out and smoked cigarettes payed for with stolen money. He snuck out and fought back to feel alive.  
Always he would come back, unarmed. Unable to fight back.  
Where did you get those bruises, she would ask.  
Michael would say he deserved them and she would let it go, assuming they were her handiwork, forgotten in her drunkenness.  
Still he never stopped fighting.  
Not just her, but life. Now, at fourteen he knew there was only so much he could do about her. She would scream and hit, throwing things to punish him.  
As time passed it lost all reason. Or perhaps, Michael considered, it had never made sense. A bad grade here, 'delayed obedience is disobedience', whatever was deemed talking back. 

"If you don't respect me, I won't respect you."

He can still hear those words along with the shattering of ceramic as the plate hit the wall beside his head.

But was it a fight worth fighting?

On sober nights she made sure he was in bed, gave him a kiss on the forehead and said she loved him. Did she really? Was it all for his own good?  
No.  
No, because a fool does his deeds in the dark, a fool keeps his work hidden. No other kids came to church Sunday morning bruised and battered, no one else spent the entire service crying in the bathroom.  
She was a fool, living in darkness. If Michael was going to fight back, it would be in the open, where all could see.

***

If you don't stop fighting, you win.

Blood dripped down Michael's face as he stood, victorious over the fallen boy before him. Bruises formed on both of them, pain wracked their bodies, but there was one difference between then.  
Michael was never going to stop fighting. The other boy did.  
He wasn't hiding his deeds, people saw. They saw outright what went on in the ring, no lying, no deceit, just fist to fist. Blood and missing teeth until someone won.  
He always won. Even if he knew all was just to keep fighting.  
But it didn't stop there.  
To stay alive he fought, to keep air in his lungs and desire strong in his head.  
He couldn't live on just blood, however.  
He fought by making it known that he did well in school, but showing that no matter what she did she couldn't break him. He made plans for college, he kept his grades up, but all were met by those same words. Your mom must be so proud, she must be amazing, I wish my mom was like that, all of the praise she didn't deserve.  
And she would take it with a smile and a laugh, and force him to respond in kind, grinding his teeth.  
He wouldn't let her ruin him.  
Not now.  
Not ever.

He left for college at seventeen, working hard to skip a grade so he could leave all the sooner. Fighting for the money and wrestling with the exhaustion that came with it.  
But still he fought for his degree, and still he could hear her screaming that he wasn't good enough. The loans piled up, and still he fought to pay, quite literally.  
That was where Geoff found him.

Mogar.  
Eighteen years old in the ring, determined to fight until his last breath.  
The other guy was a favorite, that he knew. A towering man, well above six feet tall and far larger than Michael. No punch he landed seemed to faze the man, and there was no way he could come back if he took a blow from him.  
But he was too slow.  
Michael's strategy was to get in and hit fast, and get out of reach before the other guy could react.  
But he was too slow, taking a crushing blow to the gut. With a shout of pain he crumpled to the floor, clutching his stomach.  
In his ear he could hear the people screaming, he could hear the money being exchanged. The voices changed to hers, all he could hear was her screaming that he could never be good enough. He knew that if he stayed down, she would win. If he gave up it would be victory for her.  
He pulled himself to his feet.  
Swaying, his eyes blurry from the sweat and tears he squared up, ready to fight once more, to the last breath.  
Because he can't give up.  
He sees red.

***

What happened then was a blur. When Michael came to all he could see was people, most people than he thought were possible. He looked down, trying to escape their screams.  
And was met with the lifeless face of his opponent.

***

When he came to again he saw only one face.  
It was a kind face, the lips drawn into a thin line topped with a well groomed mustache. The nose was bent a bit, as if it had been broken at some point. The eyes were kind, if droopy with sleep and marked with light crows feet around the corners. Their brows were furrowed slightly, but more in concern than anger it seemed.  
The face sighed, smiling gently.

"Good, you're awake."

Michael only stared.

***

He learned later that face belonged to Geoff Ramsey, a previous member of the Roosters who broke off to form his own crew.  
He joined that forming crew soon after, just him, Geoff, and a getaway named Jack.

He learned later that Geoff was the only one there betting on him, and that he had taken him away after the fight.

He knew that if he had lost, if he had given up he wouldn't be there. He wouldn't have the crew- the family he has now.  
You can't give up, he still told himself and them alike. You can't give up or they'll win. Even if you go down, even if it's impossible, if you give up they've already won.

So you can't give up.

Not now.

Not ever.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at Supertinydom!  
> Comments are love <3


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